


Coming Home

by DawningStar



Series: Racer Family [2]
Category: Speed Racer (2008)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-06-21
Updated: 2008-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawningStar/pseuds/DawningStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Protecting the Racers. In ten years, a lot of things have changed...but not the most important ones. The Racers begin to learn about the man Rex became.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is a sequel, and if you haven't read Protecting the Racers yet you'll be lost. I wasn't expecting to have a sequel started so soon, but here we are. I blame the reviewers, especially SerpentsAttire and randomcat23.
> 
> This story is not yet finished, and I'll be updating it as I complete the chapters. You'll have a longer wait than for Protecting the Racers, but hopefully inspiration won't abandon me. Reviews are great for prodding the characters to talk to me! Anything you like, anything you don't like, I'd love to hear from you.

It was hard to tell whether this was closer to a kidnap or a rescue, Speed thought, bemused. It was certainly not sanctioned by the hospital authorities, but when Rex had dropped a pair of red socks on his bed and grinned, protesting was out of the question. For that moment, on a face lit up with mischief, the features hadn't mattered at all and he'd seen his brother just as he remembered him.

The way Rex drove a wheelchair was disturbingly similar to the way he drove a race car, too.

Down several levels at a service entrance, the car waiting for them wasn't yellow, but Speed knew the sound of a well-tuned racing engine when he heard it and the paint job looked suspiciously new. Elena hopped out of it, winked happily at Speed, and pulled her husband down for a long kiss before handing him Racer X's mask and vanishing into the shadows as though she'd never been there.

"Coming, Speed?" his brother asked. "Unless you'd rather take your chances with the reporters out front."

Definitely more of a rescue, Speed decided. "Let's go!"

He kept his head down until they were safely away, which didn't take long, and eventually thought to mention, "Pops does know about this, right?"

"The family knows," Rex assured him. "They agreed it would be better if you didn't go out the front. They'll meet us at the house."

With that issue settled, Speed leaned back in the seat and let the wind relax him. Being trapped in a hospital bed had begun to feel a lot like being trapped in an aquarium, once the nurses had started gossiping about his identity, in spite of Trixie's valiant efforts to defend him. "Thanks, Rex. I needed out of there."

Rex cast him a look, impenetrable under the mask. "You can't call me that, Speed."

"Even when it's just us?" Speed asked, regretting the plaintive tone even as he heard it. It made him sound like a kid, which really wasn't the way he wanted Rex to see him.

"Not even then," Rex said. "It's important to train a habit, so the wrong name never comes out, even under stress. You might notice my wife never calls me by that name."

_Even under stress_ had a frightening sort of ring about it, Speed couldn't help thinking. "You're going to have to give that lecture a lot," he said, to take his mind off it.

The hospital was too public a place to hold the long conversations Speed knew pretty much everyone in the family wanted to have with Rex. It was a debatable point whether Rex had seen this as a disadvantage, or welcomed the delay. In either case, once home, things would change.

The resigned sigh told him Rex knew it, too. "However many times it takes."

"Why is it so important?" He still hadn't really adjusted to the fact of his brother's survival, and looking at the unfamiliar face made it harder. Without the name to hold on to, the memory of Alex's admission was as surreal as a dream.

A pause, long enough that Speed began to wonder if he should rephrase the question. Finally Rex said, "Because if anyone made the connections, my presence would put all of you in danger. Again."

If Rex thought the family was in danger because of him, he would have to leave. Again. And not come back, not for a very long time. If calling his brother by an alias kept him around, Speed would do it and gladly.

Remembering all the protection that Rex and the Inspector seemed to think was necessary for _his_ sake, Speed felt a twinge of guilt. His brother had left to draw the danger away, but Speed had snatched at the chance to win the Grand Prix without ever considering the consequences to his family. If Mom or Pops or Trixie had been in that ill-fated helicopter, and been hurt or killed, he'd never have forgiven himself. "Should I--do that?" he asked, voice sounding small in his own ears. "Leave? If people are shooting missiles at helicopters because I might be in them..."

"No," Rex cut him off, forcefully, and Speed knew it _was_ Rex; that was older-brother panic, not the strategic protest of an agent, and it warmed him to hear it. "No, Speed, you shouldn't." A breath of silence. "The choices I had to make...I never wanted that for you, Speedy."

_Of course not,_ Speed wanted to say, but he could tell his brother was searching for words, and didn't interrupt.

When the words came, slowly, they weren't the ones Speed had expected. "It was after that race at Thunderhead that it started. You remember how everyone wanted me to sign with them."

Speed remembered. He'd been so proud of his big brother, and so sure that Rex would never leave Racer Motors.

"Blackjack Benelli was one of those people. I turned him down. Twice." With Alex's face hidden behind Racer X's mask, it was easy to accept that the man behind it was still Rex, especially when his voice was hoarse with memory. "He made threats, but I didn't take him seriously. And then that bomb--do you remember?"

A flush of guilt heated Speed's face. "I remember." He'd carried the package in himself, pleased to have met a fan of his brother.

"After that, I knew I didn't have a choice..."

* * *

_Eleven years ago_

On the nights when no races were scheduled, Thunderhead track was usually deserted. Few drivers wanted to practice this late, when the spectators were gone. The lone red car hummed at the starting line, eager to run the track with or without competition, but her driver sighed and shut down the engine, ignoring the disappointed note as the car obediently went silent.

For once, Rex Racer had lost all desire to race.

It was well past midnight, and Pops probably thought he was out partying and getting drunk. Rex wished he were; an argument over irresponsibility and underage drinking would have been reassuringly normal, in comparison to the one they were actually going to have.

The one they _needed_ to have, because Rex had no intention of dragging his family with him into the sordid underworld he had no choice but to enter.

The bomb Speed had unwittingly brought home had come within seconds of killing not only Rex, but Speed, Pops, and Speed's completely uninvolved classmate. If Speed hadn't been quite so observant of the stranger's car...if Rex hadn't reacted fast enough...

The sick horror still hadn't faded. No, there was no way he would risk the family again. He'd already made the call, though it had felt like selling his soul to agree to Benelli's terms. Now he just had to make sure his family stayed safely out of the way.

He opened the car door to let the breeze in, and rested his head on the wheel of his car, trying to gather his courage to go back to the house. Putting it off wouldn't make it any easier.

It just gave him a few more minutes as a man with a family, instead of a thug for Benelli.

Something rustled in the still night, and Rex's attention snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing. "Who's there?"

A dark-skinned girl stepped from the shadows like a ghost, a wry smile touching her full lips. The blue dress that clung to her slim curves matched the beads that clicked softly in multiple braids. "I only want to talk, Mr. Racer," she said, in a lilting, exotic accent.

He frowned at her, trying to remember where he'd seen her before. "Talk? About what?" It came out sharp, but if he was impolite enough that she went away so much the better. The last thing he wanted was a conversation about racing, when all his dreams had become nightmares.

But she said, "About your plans for the future. You have agreed to Mr. Benelli's offer, have you not?"

The name made his gut churn. Rex recognized the girl now, a face in the crowd at the track, and he'd dismissed her then as just another racing fan. She was no older than him, and looked far more innocent. But now he could see a darkness in her eyes that didn't match her age, and he clenched his fists. "You work for him?" he demanded.

"Not at all," the girl said pleasantly. "Quite the opposite. I have a different offer for you."

A derisive breath forced its way out of him. "I've had about enough of offers I can't refuse, thanks anyhow," he snarled. "Go away."

The young woman spread her hands, her eyes wide in a silent plea. "I think you'll like this option better than what you have now," she said in earnest tones, "and of course you _can_ refuse it. But please hear me out first."

It might be a trap, and probably was; some kind of test, to see if he was going to be loyal--and yet...

Against his better judgment, Rex jerked his head for her to continue.

"I work for the C.I.B." The statement was direct and matter-of-fact, with no room in her expression for any of the obvious questions about her youth. "We have been trying to bring Benelli to trial for years now, but we have no proof, no witnesses willing to testify."

Rex had a first-hand understanding of how potential witnesses might be convinced not to do anything against Benelli. He wished the C.I.B. every success, but his family's safety was too high a price to pay, even if he could trust that this girl was truthful and not reporting to Benelli as a test of his loyalty. "I'm not going to spy on anyone." He reached for the ignition.

"Hear me out," the girl commanded again, and Rex found himself pausing without conscious decision as she stepped closer to the car. Her face was open, unguarded, and the shadows in her eyes had the look of bitter knowledge.

"Right now, you don't think you have a choice," she said. "You're probably right, or you would never have agreed. I know a little about you, Rex Racer." She raised her eyebrows slightly. "You are a good man. Following Benelli's orders will be very difficult for you. And eventually, whether in a month, or six months, or a year, there's going to be one you can't follow. What I'm offering you, when that time comes, is a way out."

He hadn't seen where it came from, but there was suddenly a slip of scrap paper in her blue-gloved hand. Rex took it gingerly, looked it over. A corner of a page that might have been torn from anywhere, with a number scribbled in feminine handwriting and a name below it--'Helen'. Perfectly safe for him to carry around.

Her direct gaze was still waiting for him when he raised his head to meet it, and there was a compassion in it that made him want to look away. "A suggestion, Mr. Racer." She reached into his car, and lightly tapped the photo there. "For your family's sake...never admit that you care about them."

Rex swallowed hard. That much he'd already known. "Why should I trust you?" he asked, a little too rough to pretend she hadn't affected him.

The girl's lilting voice dropped abruptly into something closer to a growl. "I swear to you, I would sooner die than help Benelli." The hatred in her eyes couldn't possibly be feigned. "He killed my mother."

And she stepped back, conversation over. "Wait," Rex blurted. "Helen--is that your name?"

He received the faint flicker of a smile in response, thrown over her shoulder. "It's as good a name as any."

Then she was gone.

* * *

_Present_

"And that was Elena? How you met for the first time?" Speed asked, fascinated. He didn't quite see how the story applied to the issue at hand, but it didn't matter. Every scrap of information about how his brother had spent the long years apart made the gap between them feel a little smaller.

Rex nodded. "Not that I had any idea who she was."

He'd guessed some of the pressures Rex had been under, once he'd realized the extent that corporate corruption had penetrated the sport of racing, but hearing it first-hand was still difficult. Especially since he'd had absolutely no idea about any of it while it was happening.

"I wish you'd told us." The words slipped out before he could catch them, although the last thing he wanted to do was make his brother feel any worse about the whole thing. Too late to stop now, though. "Even if you'd still had to leave, we could have tried to help. We'd've understood what you were doing."

Rex slapped the wheel sharply enough to make Speed jump in his seat. "That's it exactly, Speed!" he said, low and intense. "I _should_ have told you. I was so worried about keeping you all out of danger that I took away your right to choose."

Speed made the connection. "That's why you think I should stay. Because everyone's already shown they'd rather go through this with me, whatever happens." Even well aware of the danger--Rex's death, then the attacks by ninjas and thugs, had made it quite clear--the family had supported him wholeheartedly in the Grand Prix.

"I didn't really understand until I thought about how I'd feel, if you tried to leave," Rex admitted. He wasn't looking at Speed at all, eyes hidden behind the mask. "I was wrong. And I hope you won't make the same mistake."

A feeling of warm relief spread up through Speed's chest. "The family's learned something in ten years, too," he said, trying for a light tone. "If I tried it they'd only drag me back."

Rex snorted a soft laugh. "Saw that at Casa Cristo, didn't we? You should've heard the security guards talk about you all."

The next thought drained Speed's good humor. "But you're going to leave again, aren't you?" He tried not to make it an accusation, though it really was.

"Yeah," Rex breathed on a sigh. "There's too much to do; Royalton's not the only problem." A quick smile, lopsided but genuine. "But I won't be alone. I've got Elena to watch my back, and all the other agents; and I have a family to come home to again. I've lasted this long, you're not going to lose me now."

It didn't stop the worry, but Speed recognized the stubborn determination that he had always shared with his brother and knew there were some things that couldn't be changed. "Just be careful," he couldn't help saying.

Even now, all secrets revealed, his brother apparently could only take so much of the unaccustomed openness. "Why don't we pick up the pace a little?" he suggested. The car roared eagerly.

Speed grinned, and for the moment, the long years separating them didn't seem to matter much at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are things Minx won't say.

The silence had a focused quality to it, and Elena admitted to herself that she'd never before felt so intimidated by...well, anyone, really. But especially not by such kind and honest people. She'd faced down murderers with less trepidation than sitting here in the C.I.B. van, her husband's family pretending not to stare at her.

The Inspector had provided the vehicle, an armored transport, and a C.I.B. driver, but he'd gone himself to deal with Taejo Togokahn's evidence. It was the driver who'd conducted the family safely past the reporters, with a few strong reminders about the privacy laws that prohibited news media from approaching a private residence without permission. Elena had been waiting in the vehicle, out of sight. She avoided cameras wherever possible.

And now the silence had stretched almost fifteen minutes. Spritle and his chimpanzee watched her openly, but for once the boy was waiting for someone else to ask the first question. Trixie's little smile hadn't faded yet, and her eyes were distant, probably wondering how Speed was getting on with his brother. Sparky had been examining the interior of the compartment so long it was obvious he was avoiding eye contact. And Elena couldn't seem to look at her parents-in-law.

She ought to say something, to acknowledge the part she'd played in the family's pain and apologize somehow. The trouble was, everything she could think to say began with _I wanted to tell you_, which left Alex as the one who'd insisted on the secret. However accurate that might be, Elena had no intention of causing any more trouble between her husband and his family.

"Is it safe to talk here?" Mom Racer finally found words to end the uncomfortable silence.

Elena hadn't even considered that as a possible reason for their reluctance to speak, though now she realized that after the three consecutive lectures on secrecy Alex had given to cut off this sort of conversation in the hospital of course it would be on their minds. "Yes, it is," she assured them. "This vehicle is secure, no one is listening in. We'll make sure the house is a safe place, too."

A collective sigh of relief blew away more of the tension than Elena expected, and almost at once Spritle demanded, "Did you always know he was Rex?"

She winced. "Yes, I always knew." The simple answer was better. "I was working for the C.I.B. before Rex signed with Uniron."

Elena had never forgotten her first meeting with Rex Racer. The young driver had reminded her, with a foreboding pang, of Garrett Michaelson, the man her mother had loved, that last year--handsome and self-confident, addicted to the track and to the cars, and so very, very trapped. She'd wanted to blame Michaelson when Benelli killed her mother, but then he'd tried to turn on Benelli anyway and been murdered himself, which made it hard to resent him properly for making her mother a target.

At the time, she'd rather felt that any driver who worked for Benelli deserved whatever they got. Rex, though...he'd been different. "I've been protecting him a long time," she murmured, lost in memory.

* * *

_Eleven years ago_

Today she was Leena Price, neither elegant nor modest, and her clothes attracted plenty of attention but no one was looking at her face. The road was crowded with spectators, most of them criminals of one stripe or another, craning for a better view and betting on the outcome of the challenge.

She didn't enjoy this sort of role, and the Inspector would never have asked it of her. But Leena fit here in a way that none of the identities the Inspector had provided ever could, and right now Minx needed that invisibility.

Actually, the Inspector was going to be quite upset when she reported in, assuming she chose to include all the details. He was a good man, and Minx knew very well how much she owed him, but there were days when he apparently couldn't decide whether to treat her as his agent or his daughter.

How he'd picked up _that_ notion, Minx had no idea. The concern was kind of nice but the lectures could get awfully tiresome.

The crowd was focused on the bright orange and yellow car of Fury Farnell, an appropriately nicknamed man whose hair was dyed to match his vehicle. Officially, Farnell drove for Uniron, the same company who now sponsored Rex Racer. Unofficially, Farnell had been working for Benelli long enough that he was often rewarded with wins where corporate concerns permitted.

So far, Rex Racer had only followed instructions to prevent undesirable drivers from making any kind of notable finish, but he'd done it with a flair that had unfortunately attracted Fury's attention.

The drivers connected with the criminal underworld challenged each other regularly, because they were drivers; because they were seldom better than criminals themselves, the challenge races were violent and rife with sabotage. Injury was common, death less so but always a possibility.

Minx strolled through the crowd in a leisurely fashion, aiming for the relatively uncrowded area around Rex Racer's car without ever quite looking at it. The trick was not to _look_ like she was in a hurry.

With a seductive sway that would offer adequate explanation to any observer, Minx made the final approach to the bright red car. It wasn't the track car Rex had driven in the races, but a brand-new one, suitable for road driving or rallies, provided by Uniron as an extra benefit to their newest driver.

Behind the wheel, Rex Racer hit the ignition, head tilted slightly as he listened to the sound of the powerful engine. His face had grown harder in the month since she'd last been this close, but it bore no trace of the malice that marked Farnell and others like him.

In general, Minx didn't like drivers. All of them were arrogant, to more and less harmful degrees, and aggressive driving on the track too often spilled over into aggression off the track. And all of them working for Benelli were by definition her enemies, because Benelli was going to trial, whatever it took.

Rex Racer shouldn't have felt much different from all the rest. Certainly she shouldn't trust him, shouldn't let him know where or who she was after the initial contact. He was a desperate man, and it was quite possible he would decide that turning her in as an agent would make his family safer.

And yet there was something about him...she hadn't even paused to question what she needed to do.

The young man didn't see her until she leaned in over his window, and then his eyes narrowed in wary recognition. Minx ignored this, and put all the urgency her expression didn't dare show into her voice instead, soft and sharp. "Farnell bribed your mechanic. You've got a faulty tread on the left front wheel. Can you compensate for it?"

The road ahead was mountainous and full of sharp turns, and not known for its safety. A skid on the wrong curve, especially with an opponent who knew to expect it, could easily send both car and driver over a cliff edge. If Racer couldn't handle it, she needed to figure out some kind of delay fast. There was no way to simply call off the race.

Racer's face hardly changed, but his frown got a little deeper. "I can manage," he said curtly.

"Good." She had to trust he wasn't overestimating his own ability. "Check your Kwiksave again," she added anyway. "It's probably been disabled."

"Why are you telling me?" he demanded, harsh and suspicious still. "I'm _not_ working for you people."

_Not yet_, Minx thought. That was true enough, Racer had yet to use the number she'd provided him. And honestly, she wasn't supposed to be getting this involved. It was dangerous for him to know she was still around, watching out for him. The Inspector wouldn't be pleased with the risk she was taking.

She couldn't possibly explain something she barely understood herself, not to his satisfaction in a few seconds. Minx offered a sultry smile instead, for the benefit of anyone watching. "I like you, that's all," she purred, and moved away, aiming for the next handsome, well-dressed young man. Leena Price was always welcome.

What made Racer different? Maybe it was only that he was the best hope yet of getting evidence to link Benelli to the Uniron corporation, but she couldn't help remembering the pain in his eyes when she'd mentioned his family at their first meeting. Minx had watched him cut all ties to keep his family safe. Not many drivers would go so far, and she could tell it hurt him, convincing everyone he didn't care about the people he loved most in the world.

_ He'll make a good agent, if we can just keep him alive long enough_. She'd put it that way to the Inspector, who'd laughed at hearing her repeat almost exactly the same words he had once used of the stubborn, revenge-driven girl she'd been three years ago.

Minx needed to keep him alive. It was that simple; why complicate it with explanations? She was going to keep him alive. Whatever it took.

Some enterprising soul had set up a large screen to one side, and the crowd drifted in that direction as Farnell shouted a bit more abuse in Rex's direction. The young driver pulled into position beside him without bothering to respond. This was strictly a challenge; there were no other cars.

The image jittered nauseatingly on the screen as the amateur cameraman adjusted to the motion of the helicopter. One of Farnell's more attractive girlfriends brought down the flag, and both cars roared away.

Minx chose not to join in the general shouting. Most people were supporting Farnell, because it was safer, except for the gamblers who had taken the higher risk and put money on Racer instead. It would have added to her cover to cheer Farnell on, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Drivers were always too confident of their skills. She only hoped Racer had found whatever the greedy mechanic had no doubt done to his Kwiksave.

The red car had taken an early lead, Farnell tucked in just behind. Around the first few gentle curves up the hillside, there was no evidence of trouble. Then Racer took a hairpin turn almost without slowing, and began to skid uncontrolled toward the flimsy guard rail.

Minx felt her heart leap into her throat and choke off her breathing. He'd gone at that turn with no caution at all, had he even been _listening_ to her?

Farnell moved in to make the shove--

And Racer turned into the skid and flung his car into a full spin, slamming into Farnell at such an angle that the orange car rubbed harshly against the cliff face, leaving streaks of paint behind. Racer was off and away before Farnell could correct his momentum.

She took a careful breath, hands trembling, and watched Rex Racer take the next few curves widely enough that the skid never even began. Oh yes, he'd been listening. And he'd made that dangerous play to ensure no one suspected that he already knew about the problem.

_He'll make a good agent_, she thought again, and couldn't quite keep from smiling.

* * *

_Present_

Too many details about that dangerous time would only make the family fret about her husband's safety, and Elena didn't want that; it was easy to see they were already worried enough. She simplified that entire period in their lives to, "He didn't trust me at first, but I warned him if another driver had something planned."

"So you met him as Rex?" Mom Racer said, eyebrows up in surprise. "If you've always known about the family--We never met back then, did we?"

Elena shook her head. "I always wanted to meet you," she answered honestly. "It was too dangerous. It's a risk even now, but it would have been much worse before."

"Why didn't Rex _tell_ us?" Elena had only spent a week's time with the Racers, but she knew already that Pops didn't often sound so subdued. It was regret in his eyes, not the anger Alex still dreaded facing, and for her husband's sake she was glad of it. "He let me think--if he'd explained, I'd never have said--he has to know that, surely?"

"He knew," Elena affirmed quietly. "It's a conversation you'll need to have with my husband, but I can tell you that he was only ever trying to protect you all, the best way he knew how. Benelli was a very violent man, and very persuasive."

Her father-in-law's face went suddenly hard with memory. "That bomb in the package," he spat. "That's when Rex started acting strangely, I should have known! He told me it was some rival driver, said he'd take care of it..."

"How safe is Rex _now_?" Mom Racer interrupted, looking anxiously from Pops to Elena. "All the risks he takes on the track are bad enough, but the people shooting at him, the ninjas, how often does this sort of thing happen?"

In point of fact, it happened a good deal more often than Elena liked, and there wasn't much she could say that would be comforting to worried parents. "Alex is very good at what he does," she began, words coming slow. "It isn't a safe job, but it's necessary. He's saved a lot of lives."

"But surely someone else could do it," Mom Racer appealed. "Hasn't Rex done enough already?"

Elena's mouth twisted in complete sympathy. "If he wanted to stop, no one would argue with him," she agreed. "The Inspector's offered him quite a nice retirement package twice that I know of. But this is important to Alex. And honestly, no, there's no one else who could possibly drive the way he does."

The pride and worry intermixed on the faces of her in-laws at this statement warmed Elena, it being precisely the way she felt most of the time. "If it's that important to him, we'll support him however we can," Pops announced, decisive. "Took me a couple tries to get this thing right, but I'm not making the same mistake again."

His wife leaned into him and wrapped an arm around, giving and receiving comfort.

"How come you still call him Alex even though we all know who he is now?" Spritle sidetracked the conversation with a curious look.

Elena offered a wry smile. "It's safer if I don't think of him as Rex. I'm less likely to slip in public," she explained. "Actually, he'll probably insist the rest of you do the same. There are still people who would be very unhappy to learn that Rex survived."

There was a general wince at the reminder. "No problem," Pops said hastily. "We've been calling him Alex for a week already, it's a good name."

"I, ah, wanted to say." Elena's carefully cultivated confidence slipped farther away from her with every word. Apologizing seemed like such a feeble gesture when she thought how she would have felt if someone had conspired to make _her_ believe that her mother had died when it wasn't true. Or Alex, for that matter. "All these years when you didn't know--I'm so sorry."

Her mother-in-law had tears in her eyes, but there was a genuine smile under them. "I'm glad he found you, Elena," she said sincerely. "After he left, I was worried most of all that he was alone. It can't have been an easy life for either of you, but I can still recognize my son, and I know it's because of you. Thank you for protecting him."

Elena's responding nod was jerky, and her own eyes were full. "Always," she murmured, clasping her mother-in-law's hand in silent pledge. "I can't say it's not dangerous, but I'll keep your son safe if I possibly can."

"And yourself, too," Pops Racer put in, smiling at her. "I think I'm going to like having a daughter. We'd like to keep you."

It was a strange feeling. For a week she'd been on the fringes, almost like family but never quite comfortable however she pretended, her husband's identity a barrier between her and the welcoming Racers. Now it was gone, and she really was family.

It was a strange feeling, but she very much wanted the chance to get used to it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparky remembers.

Rex was _alive_.

He'd gotten stuck on that thought a while back, like an engine with a faulty starter, unable to move past it however many times he tried. Alex was Rex, Rex was Racer X, Rex was married, all of it would probably matter sometime later but right now he didn't have the room to process any of it. Rex was alive!

Sparky had the feeling there'd probably been a vague, stupid smile on his face ever since the revelation in the hospital room. Certainly he'd been drifting about with his mind more than a decade away.

With a name like Wilson Sparkolomew, he probably would have had trouble with his classmates regardless of any other factors. He was also short, new, not academically inclined, and couldn't care less about any sport that didn't include engines. In the seventh grade, it was a situation made for disaster.

Rex Racer had been the amazingly cool high-school student whose friendship automatically made Sparky cool by association. No one made fun of him after Rex, already winning all the Thunderhead junior division races, made it known that Sparky was a genius mechanic. It had been Rex who first called him Sparky, too.

He'd spent more time at the track and at the Racer house than in his own home, empty while his father worked long hours. Speed had grieved with him after Rex's loss, because they both knew how it felt to lose a brother.

But Rex was alive, and while Sparky might eventually be upset over the lost years, right now he could only be grateful for the miracle.

Lost in the past, he'd been listening to Elena with no more than half an ear. Then he heard her pledge to Mom and Pops. "I'll keep your son safe if I possibly can," she said, and Sparky froze.

It was a feeling not unlike being hit with a socket wrench, only less painful. He looked across the compartment at Rex's wife, and a slow smile of recognition crept to his face as the memory absorbed him again.

* * *

_Eleven years ago_

The Mach Five took on the same shimmering color as the clouds in the light of early sunrise, with her own metallic sheen that to Sparky's eyes outshone the sky completely. He trailed a hand along the white curve of the hood, glancing guiltily at the silent Racer household. He shouldn't be here. Stopping here on the way to the airport was just asking for trouble, he had no good reason to be here.

He and Rex had built this car together, from engine to final waxing. Pops Racer had designed it and encouraged them along the way, but it had been Rex's special project. Sparky sighed, searching his memory again for any hint that Rex had wanted more than Racer Motors and an amateur mechanic best friend could give him. In his memories, Rex had always seemed so...content.

But maybe that was only because _Sparky_ had always been content with the way things were...

"You're going to see Rex, aren't you?"

Sparky jumped violently, one knee slamming into the Mach Five's door with a solid thump. He'd completely failed to notice Speed before. The kid was huddled into the passenger side of Rex's car, arms locked about his knees. "Um," he said, buying himself time, and leaned over to check the smooth metal to be sure his carelessness hadn't left a dent. And so he wouldn't have to meet the painful hope in Speed's eyes.

He'd told his dad that Rex had sent him a ticket to Fuji. That was a complete lie. Rex hadn't bothered to send him so much as a postcard since storming away from Racer Motors and signing with Uniron. But Sparky couldn't stand the thought of having company this trip, and his father wouldn't have let him go alone if he'd admitted Rex probably didn't want to see him.

And he had let the Racers believe it was a vacation that had nothing to do with racing, something to get his mind off Rex, because they would ask too many questions if he even mentioned Fuji.

With two different false stories well prepared, Sparky could have lied to anyone else. But not to Speed, not looking at his own pain in the young face. "I'm going to try," he told the boy after a moment, honestly. "But I don't know if Rex will talk to me."

"He's got to," Speed insisted, scooting to his knees on the seat to meet Sparky at something closer to eye-level. "I don't know why Rex's mad at us, but he can't be mad at _you_. You weren't even here."

Nice interpretation; Sparky wished he could believe it. The guilt of being on the other side of the world when his best friend needed him still twisted unpleasantly in his gut. A few weeks visiting family in Australia, and everything had fallen apart here. He could only shake his head wearily, and repeat, "I don't know, Speed."

The kid looked down, and the key to the Mach Five clinked as he twisted it around his fingers. The Mach Five belonged to Speed now, but to the two of them it would always be Rex's car. "I just--can you ask Rex for me why he's mad? Tell him Pops is sorry? And we all want him to come home, we miss him. He won't--I tried to send a letter, but--please tell Rex I love him, that's all."

Sparky ducked his head. He wanted desperately to convince Speed not to blame himself, but knew the boy would only accept that if it came from Rex. "I'll tell him," he promised instead, because there was nothing else to say. "If I find him, I'll tell him."

"Okay," Speed breathed, and managed a smile, though his eyes were damp. "Have a safe trip, Sparky. You better go before Mom or Pops see you here."

It was good advice, and Sparky took it, heading to the airport in plenty of time for his plane. The flight to Fuji was completely uneventful, allowing far too much time to think as

he drew nearer to a confrontation he knew he would never be ready for.

All the hotels catered to the race fans, the Helexicon being the major tourist event of the year for the little group of tropical islands. Even the cramped, musty inn Sparky had chosen as best suited to his small budget offered free transportation to the racetrack, though it was a crowded bus that stank of too many people in humid air.

He'd come up with a lot of plans for finding Rex, most of them stupid enough that even someone as young as Speed could have pointed out their flaws--but in the end it was as simple as recognizing the red Uniron transport when it arrived. Sparky scrambled to reach the entrance gate before the car, and Rex, were lost to the confusion of the track.

Rex was not such a well-known driver that reporters paid him much attention, not when there were so many other and more notable celebrities about. Once the race officials let the car enter, no one was around but two burly men in coveralls with the Uniron logo splashed across them. Sparky would have preferred to have Rex's new mechanics out of earshot for this, but there wasn't going to be a better chance. He wiped sweaty palms on his jeans and hurried forward.

From a distance Rex had looked exactly the way Sparky remembered him; closer, the tension in his clenched jaw was harder and colder than the excitement Sparky had always shared with him before a race. "Rex!" he called, voice not so confident as he would have liked.

He'd imagined about a hundred different reactions Rex might have to seeing him so unexpectedly, but none of them had included the flicker of sheer panic. It was gone almost at once, but Sparky knew Rex too well to miss it.

The contempt that replaced it was even worse. "Sparkolomew," Rex sneered, and there was no welcome in the tone at all. "Come to sneak a look at a proper car, for once?" The Uniron mechanics snickered appreciatively.

Sparky faltered. Even with all he'd heard about the bitter argument, he hadn't expected this from his best friend. "You always loved the Mach Four!" he protested defensively. Pops Racer had done the actual design work, but Sparky couldn't help feeling a certain proprietary interest after all the times he'd helped get the car ready for the track and repair it afterward.

"You thought we were really friends, didn't you?" Rex laughed. It was a harsh, cruel sound, and Sparky had never heard anything like it from Rex before, not even aimed at the worst schoolyard bullies and idiot drivers, the ones he knew Rex hated. "I only needed a half-decent mechanic to back me up, and you worked for scraps of praise--cheapest I could find. I don't need you anymore, you or those junk-heaps my old man builds. I have a real team now."

The malice in Rex's voice cut through all Sparky's good intentions, and curled bitter on his tongue. "Speed wants to know what he did to make you angry enough to leave," he spat. "Maybe he ought to be asking what he did to be stuck with a brother like you in the first place."

It was fury and pain that flung the words like weapons, and Sparky saw them strike home in Rex's almost imperceptible flinch. But there was none of the reaction he'd hoped for, no denials, no sign of the Rex Sparky knew. "Run on home, Sparkolomew," Rex said, cold and distant as to a complete stranger.

The car accelerated past him. The closer mechanic took the opportunity to shove him, smirking as Sparky stumbled backward and fell with a bruising thump on the pavement.

Then they were gone, and Sparky was alone with his wounded pride, breathless and definitely not close to tears.

For a long moment, going back to the cheap hotel with its water-stained wallpaper and mold on the ceiling was infinitely more tempting than staying to watch the best friend he'd apparently never known. In the end, though, he stayed. This was the Fuji Helexicon, one of the races he'd always promised himself he'd see in person someday, and he'd already spent his savings on the nonrefundable ticket. If Rex had torn apart the last five years of his life, well, at least there was a race to watch.

He would have to tell Speed something. _I couldn't find Rex,_ Sparky rehearsed mentally. _Sorry, Speed, the track was just too crowded, I couldn't talk to him...I never found him._ It didn't feel like a lie. Their Rex, the older brother who Speed loved, would never have said those things.

Sparky's eyes kept drifting toward Rex in spite of himself, as the cars lined up on the track. Something was wrong with the way Rex had acted, but nothing had been right since Rex left. If that kind of contempt had always been there, and he just hadn't seen it--but how could he have missed it? For five years they'd spent virtually all their free time together, working on one or another of the cars Pops Racer had designed.

No, the change was too sudden, it had to be something about signing with Uniron that had caused it. Sparky tried to picture Rex falling in with the professional crowd, trying to fit in by renouncing his independent background...had Rex convinced himself what he'd claimed was true?

But Rex had never been one to follow a crowd. In high school as on the track, Rex had always insisted on going his own way--ahead of everyone else.

_You were the cheapest I could find..._the words still hurt, like shards of glass in his mind, coming to the surface again and again.

He didn't want to watch Rex, but somehow his eyes still weren't getting the message, because he couldn't seem to look anywhere else. Rex was doing the usual pre-race checks, now his mechanics had left him to head up to the spotter box. And of course trained, professional mechanics would be better than Sparky was, but how was that his fault? He was still in high school, Rex had no right to expect--

Sparky frowned, the rhythm of his thoughts broken by an unexpected change in Rex's actions. He knew the usual checks by heart, but Rex had pulled out a little box and plugged it under the seat. That was a Kwiksave diagnostic, and there was no reason for _Rex_ to be running it. That was a mechanic's job, to be sure the car was in perfect condition before the race. Rex should only need to check the settings, make sure the safety mechanism could take a few normal hits without ejecting him.

Rex had never once felt the need to run a Kwiksave diagnostic while Sparky was in charge of his car.

Which meant Rex didn't trust his new mechanics, his trained mechanics, his _real team_.

There were probably other explanations, Sparky tried to convince himself while the engines revved below and the race began. And whatever the explanation was, Rex obviously didn't want his help.

But five years of friendship didn't vanish so easily under injured pride, and Sparky thought, _If Rex can't trust his mechanics, then he's in danger._

The race itself only worried him more. Rex had always been an aggressive driver, but he had only scorn for anyone who refused to show the usual track courtesies--messy driving, he called it. But now, on two separate occasions, he saw Rex purposely drop back to ram someone he could just as easily have passed without incident. Neither of the opposing cars were destroyed, but both were off the track, badly damaged, and out of the race.

And for all the fury in his driving, although Sparky knew Rex could have caught the lead cars, in the final lap he dropped back to fifth place.

_What's going on, Rex?_ There had to be something he was missing, something that would make sense of all this.

But Rex didn't want his help. He ought to go home, leave Rex to whatever business he'd gotten mixed up with, go home and help Speed forget about his brother.

Torn, Sparky lingered in the stands as the spectators filed out. Another confrontation like the first would only make things worse. Maybe it didn't even matter, because he didn't think he could find Rex again whether or not he wanted to.

Someone bumped into him from behind. "Sorry," Sparky mumbled automatically--then froze as he felt a slip of paper pressed into his hand. He spun to find who had done it, but there were too many choices and whoever it had been vanished into the crowd.

He unfolded the paper curiously, and read it. Cryptic directions to wait half an hour in a specific room--_unless you don't want to speak to your friend._ There was no signature, only an additional scribble, _Destroy this note_.

It was probably some sort of practical joke. But by the time this occurred to Sparky he had already found the room, a maintenance closet that had apparently been abandoned in favor of the larger storage space down the hall, and was occupied shredding the paper into its component molecules. He had to know what was going on. Even if this was just so Rex could laugh at him again, he had to know.

The note had said half an hour, but according to the clock on the wall it was only about twenty minutes before he heard Rex's voice in the hallway, an urgent hiss. "What do you think you're _doing_, Helen? This isn't safe--"

"No, it isn't," a girl responded sharply, "so shut up."

Sparky opened the door without thinking. Rex stood just outside, changed out of his driver's uniform into a T-shirt bearing a large Uniron brand. The person beside him might have been either gender except for her voice and name, a slender, dark-skinned individual whose loose clothes and short hair gave no definite clues. But she smiled at Sparky, and somehow he felt better for it.

He met Rex's gaze with trepidation. Was this Rex, or was it the stranger who'd spat venom at him? How well had he really known his best friend?

But the look in Rex's eyes made Sparky think of a rabbit sitting on the racetrack, just as it noticed the noise of approaching cars, and worry took precedent over the anger. "What's going on, Rex?" he asked, with honest concern.

"You have about ten minutes," the black girl said briskly. "Talk in there, no one will hear you. I'll keep watch." She shooed them both into the little room and shut the door.

Sparky blinked after her. "So you've got a girlfriend now?" he wondered aloud.

"Don't be an idiot, I hardly know her," Rex replied, and the irritation was so familiar that Sparky grinned. Rex had never liked being teased about the many girls who found him highly attractive. Whatever had happened, this _was_ Rex, and the knowledge settled the worst of the sharp-edged pain.

Ten minutes wasn't much time for explanations. "Whatever you're doing, let me come with you," Sparky said abruptly, because it was more important.

Rex's eyes went wide and guilt-stricken. "I--Sparky--what I _said_\--"

"You didn't mean it," and it surprised Sparky a little how certain he was of that. "I saw you checking the Kwiksave, you don't trust your mechanics, you need someone you can trust." The thought of Rex driving a T-180 checked by someone incompetent, or worse, actively malicious, bit into Sparky's gut like acid. "Let me help."

The stunned gratitude in Rex's face warmed Sparky, though Rex shook his head almost at once and said, "You can't. This is something I need to do alone."

"You can't tell me what you're doing, can you?" He already knew the answer to the wistful question before Rex slowly shook his head again.

"This can't last long." Rex said it like a prayer. "I'll come home...eventually. But someone's got to watch out for Speed, and I can't do it. That's what I need you to do, Sparky, for me. Look after the family. Please."

Sparky swallowed. "Just be careful," he managed, through a dry mouth. "We all want you home. It's you that Speed loves, and your parents. I can't take your place."

"When it's safe, I'll come home," Rex promised.

If Rex was really leaving, cutting off all contact, the family wouldn't hear from him at all-- "What am I going to tell Speed?" Sparky panicked aloud. "He made me promise to ask why you were mad at them, ask you to come home..." The thought of disappointing the child was additional pain.

Rex grimaced. "Tell him my contract says I can't talk to my old team, and I can't get out of it. Tell him that I want to come home and I will as soon as I can."

It was a good solution, tailored to Speed's worries. It would go a long way toward making the horrible situation a little more bearable for Speed. Sparky wondered how true the explanation was, but he didn't say anything, because he knew there was more to the message.

The faint whisper of a sigh. "Tell Speed I love him," Rex added, quietly. "And thank you, Sparky. For finding me." He offered his right hand.

Secret handshakes had been the coolest thing ever for a brief period while they were in school, but the stage had passed and Sparky hadn't thought about their secret handshake in years. Somehow it seemed the most fitting symbol right now, though. _Always friends_. Sparky made the requisite four changes in grip and one twist smoothly enough they might have been burned into his muscles, and Rex matched him.

"So...who _is_ Helen?" Sparky wanted to know. For someone Rex hardly knew, it was strange behavior.

Rex shrugged. "She's helped me out. I guess I trust her." It was more of a grudging admission than any sort of compliment. But the reminder made Rex glance at the time. "I should get back or they'll wonder where I am."

Reluctantly, Sparky opened the door. "Be careful," he ordered Rex again. "Stay safe." As though it would do any good. People didn't climb into T-180s because they were disposed not to take risks.

A gentle clap on the shoulder, the gesture Sparky knew to mean _I can't promise, but I'll try._

Then Rex was gone, hurrying down the corridor past where Helen leaned casually against a wall. If they said anything to each other, Sparky couldn't tell.

Helen approached him then, and Sparky didn't especially want to face the compassion in her eyes. But she only said, "You should wait another few minutes before you leave."

Sparky nodded, because it made sense, if they didn't want anyone to realize he and Rex had spoken. "Thank you," he said. There ought to be more, what she'd done was priceless to him, but he had no other words to express it.

The girl ducked her head slightly. "He shouldn't have to lose you all," she said. "But you can't contact him again."

"I know." It hurt, but he wouldn't try, not if it would make things more dangerous for Rex.

"Listen--" she began, and stopped, and began again, "I'll keep your friend safe. I promise you."

Taken aback by the sudden intensity of the pledge, Sparky tried to find some sort of response, but before he could open his mouth she was down the hall in the opposite direction and out of sight.

He was abandoning Rex to danger and conspiracy, he had only the slimmest comfort to carry back to Speed, and it was against all reason that a promise from a complete stranger should make any difference at all. Yet somehow it did.

* * *

_Present_

Now Sparky leaned forward, until he realized he was staring at her and looked quickly away again. At a distance of more than ten years, he'd never made the connection. It was no wonder he hadn't recognized her, she'd made an impressive effort to look unmemorable at Fuji.

He'd gone home and told Speed what he could, told no one else anything at all for fear of endangering Rex. After Blackjack Benelli had gone to trial, he'd been so hopeful that Rex would come back any day now--and then had come Casa Cristo.

For years afterward, he'd tried not to remember Helen, because it was too painful. Either she'd never meant her promise and wasn't worth remembering, or she had failed somehow, and Sparky had the uncomfortable feeling that she would never have allowed Rex's death if she'd been alive to prevent it. For someone he'd met so briefly, it was strange that the thought of her death bothered him so much.

But she'd kept Rex safe after all.

Sparky bit his cheek to keep himself from smiling too broadly. Never mind that it had been years ago, he didn't like the thought of Mom and Pops realizing he'd lied to them. Which they would if he asked about it now.

When the transport finally arrived at the Racer residence, there was a great deal of confusion as everyone rushed into the house at once, eager to see Rex--an unfamiliar car was parked on the drive, and Sparky eyed it curiously.

In spite of this distraction, he managed to catch Elena alone for a moment as the family hurried in. "You were Helen, weren't you," he said.

Her skin tone was dark enough to hide any flush, but she dipped her eyes in mild embarrassment. "If you could, ah, not mention that to the Inspector," she said. "I wasn't supposed to take risks like that, and I didn't include quite everything in that particular report."

"As long as you don't mention it to your parents-in-law," he returned, with a grin, "they didn't know I went to Fuji." Then more seriously, "I just wanted to say--thanks. For that, and for keeping him alive." The guilt in her eyes hadn't faded yet, so Sparky thought she could do with a bit more appreciation. Rex was alive, that was what mattered now.

Her nod was a little uncomfortable, so Sparky let it drop and headed in after everyone else. The Racers were good at adopting people, so there'd be plenty more chances to chase away that look of guilt.

Sparky smiled to himself, full of cheerful plans for teasing Rex about the not-girlfriend he'd married. He couldn't think of a better way to welcome his friend home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belated author's note--forgot to add this when I posted the chapter the first time. Credit to bean15 for saying Sparky needed more attention, which is where the idea for this chapter began, and also for providing Sparky's full name, which I certainly wouldn't have come up with on my own. Thank you, bean15! Hope you continue your own Sparky story!


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